


Reed's Plus-One

by hexereii



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys Kissing, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Romance, Suggestive Themes, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 01:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexereii/pseuds/hexereii
Summary: So, the prompt I was given said: "reed taking victor as his date for their college formal! victor doesn’t realize he’s there as reed’s plus one until ten minutes in" ...and I went way further with it than I meant to.





	Reed's Plus-One

There wasn't a single event or party or quick hand of Uno that Victor von Doom wouldn't turn his nose up at, usually with enough verbal scorn to make it clear he considered the entire concept of '_fun_' beneath his dignity. At the same time, of course, he practically sulked if he wasn't invited and that paradox alone was enough to make the challenge intriguing to Reed.

It had started as a mental exercise: how to convince his lab partner to simply attend a function. A dance. _Something_. Just to show up willingly--he didn't even need to participate.

On the morning of the day Reed finally managed to solve this puzzle, he stood in front of the half-fogged mirror in his dorm, trying to '_zhuzh_' his hair into something approximating a style. So far it wasn't working, but that gave him time to consider his assets in a more general sense: he was not, scientifically speaking, an unattractive person. The geometrical ratios of his face, the bilateral symmetry, the statistically-preferred features for long-term partnering such as brown eyes and dark hair; these were all in his favor.

And the only reason he was fussing over his hair was in the vain hope that Victor would finally notice it. 

...Oh.

This wasn't just a matter of seeing whether he could convince a more stubborn introvert than himself to step out into the world just a little--it was him wanting personally to attend the Spring Formal with his lab partner.

Somehow, that epiphany provided all the motivation he needed.

** ** ** ** **

Getting him to the dance was easy enough, really--equal parts a childish double-dare that he knew Victor would rise to, plus the promise of lab reports he needed that could only be handed over early if Victor happened to be nearby. 

And if he was going to be in that place at that time, well... why not enjoy himself a little?

Waiting outside as unobtrusively as possible, Reed checked his watch again and considered giving up. Every part of this was a bad idea, and it seemed likely that Victor had either forgotten or changed his mind anyway--better to cut his losses and make and early night of it than dawdle around feeling foolish.

“Date stand ya up, Stretch?” Ben's own waited nearby, talking with her friends as he checked in on his.

“Is that Debbie?”

“Yeah–astrophysics major. Apparently I’m earning some kinda rep as a nerd groupie. An’ don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question.”

Reed bit his lip uncertainly.

“I’ll give it five more minutes. And I need to ask a favor–don’t call him my date. At least… not in front of him.”

Ben paused, giving his friend a long, skeptical look.

“Reed. He does _know _he’s your date, right?”

Adjusting his tie and studying the stars–goodness, what a clear night–he vaguely mumbled an answer.

“Reed?”

“I may not have used those exact words, Ben. But I’m sure he understood my meaning.”

Grimm rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“I’m sure, yeah. This’ll be just… swell. Call me when he flips out, I’ll stuff him in my trunk and drive him back to the dorms or something.”

Reed barely heard the last few words. A familiar figure was approaching, and everything in his abdominal cavity felt suddenly off-kilter.

Unlike his earlier self-assessment, there was no consideration given to the mathematics of it all: Victor was attractive under perfectly ordinary circumstances, he could make absolutely anything look good, let alone a dark gray, well-tailored suit with green and gold accents. 

(There were opinions being offered by other body parts now as well, and Reed practically _willed _his face to cool before Victor saw him.)

Ben had rejoined Debbie and her friends near the entrance, close enough to step in if he needed to, but maintaining sufficient distance to give them privacy. Von Doom glared at him anyway–if only for a second before his eyes focused again on Richards.

(Reed was fascinated by his dark brown curls. Somehow, his hair always seemed to do whatever he wanted it to--or alternatively, whatever he chose to do with it suited him no matter what it was.)

“You have the reports?” The moment came to a crashing halt as Victor went straight to business.

Reed shrugged. “I do, but did you really get all dressed up just for that? You could at least put in an appearance.”

Gold-brown eyes studied him, the lids lowered in either suspicion or distaste. It was impossible to know which; probably both, he guessed. Then Victor reached out, catching Reed's tie in both hands and every thought process spontaneously derailed.

Up close, there were a thousand small details to get lost in. From the way his brows drew together in concentration to the disapproving little quirk of his lips; the way his thick, dark lashes shadowed the skin when he looked down, and even the scent of him, that warm, vibrant mixture of perfectly ordinary soap and some kind of hair tonic he didn’t recognize undercut by something that was unique to Victor himself... it all seemed designed to fascinate. To mesmerize.

Von Doom tugged the loose Windsor knot into place again sharply and stepped back, leaving Reed feeling dizzy and befuddled.

“Thank you–” Touching the tie gingerly to check it, he glanced up to give his "date" a dazzled smile, but Victor had already turned toward the gymnasium.

Not ideal. Reed had the tickets in his pocket, and according to those tickets… well. Best if he put himself between Victor and the scowling alumni at the door who had already realized that there was no “Von Doom” on his list.

“He’s with me.” Ticket. Student ID. Richards-comma-Reed and his plus-one. “We’re lab partners; Dr Stevenson can vouch.” There was exactly no chance at all that Victor had brought his student ID along, or that he’d show it without demanding to know why he needed to. Reed spoke as quickly as he could without seeming nervous and practically shoved Victor through the doors ahead of him.

Above all, he couldn’t know that he was a plus-one. Handle it casually. Don’t treat it like a date. Don’t treat _him_ like a date.

“Can I get you a drink?” …Damn.

Victor considered for a second.

“No alcohol. And no sugar.”

Reed arched a brow and blinked at him slowly. Why did every interaction with him have to be so… _exhausting_?

“That probably rules out everything but water.”

“Yes?” Victor said, expectantly.

“Alright, then. Water it is.”

This entire thing had been a mistake and he knew it. How did he imagine it was going to go, if not precisely like this? The infatuation or… whatever this was, clearly it was all one-sided… and Victor... was an ass. It was really just that simple.

Reed ordered two waters from the bar and got a pitying look as they were handed over. Victor, meanwhile, had vanished into the crowd–he wasn’t sitting at their table, he certainly wasn’t dancing (not that Reed could picture that happening anyway) …he was simply _gone_.

Taking a long, bracing sip and loosening the tie Victor had drawn up far too tightly, Reed waited at their table and felt like the stupidest man alive.

* * *

Initially, he couldn’t imagine what the point of it all was.There was an obvious element of display to it all–showing oneself as both desirable and available, or flaunting a partnership, or something equally tiresome that he had neither the time nor the inclination for–but why Reed would encourage him to attend, Victor couldn’t imagine.

Maybe he intended to set him up with someone. That seemed likely, and if so… well, he'd find an excuse to slip out and get the damned lab reports himself.

That plan was all well and good until the second he arrived, at least. Until he’d seen Reed dressed for a formal event (displaying both attractiveness and availability–that was the point, wasn't it?) and realized how close they were in height. How soft his hair looked, and how much Victor absolutely _lived_ for those moments of dazed, star-struck fascination from Reed. They were rare, but so completely worth the effort.

(That lost, half-enthralled look when he'd reached out to straighten Reed's tie; hearing his breath catch and watching his pupils dilate, and knowing in that second that he _had _him. That in some way he didn’t fully understand and that Reed didn’t even seem to recognize, Victor had a degree of power over him that could be... beneficial? Enjoyable? Somewhere between the two?)

Best if he didn’t dwell on these things. These distractions. Whatever arrangements Reed had made, Victor wasn’t there to date or find a wife or… any other such foolishness. He’d put in his appearance, now he needed to find the exit and locate Reed’s car. The files were probably there; surely he wasn’t stupid enough to have lied about that part, at least--

“–that’s what I mean! I knew there was something to it, you see them on the quad arguing like an old married couple, they’re obviously a thing, right?”

“Okay, Reed… maybe. It's a stretch, but I could see it. I can't picture the Von Doom guy having sex at all, though. I just... I can’t.”

“Yeah, but he's European. They do things differently there.”

“Julie, I think being an asshole is a turn-off on every continent.”

“Clearly not to Reed–”

Victor froze where he stood, embarrassment and outrage washing over him. He’d heard this kind of thing before, but never so openly–here, standing just behind the curtain covering the exit hallway, he was privy to the entire conversation.

And he could do absolutely nothing about it, without risking his scholarship and possibly more.

Fine. Let them talk. What were they to him? A trio of silly, gossiping children. Nothing of consequence.

“I still say bringing Victor as his plus one was a baller move, though. That’s one hell of a way to declare yourself a couple. A nice big ‘keep off the ass’ sign.”

As his… _**what?**_

* * *

Rattling the dainty cubes of ice in one plastic cup, Reed didn’t see the danger approaching until it was far too late–Victor, his jacket off and sleeves rolled back to the elbows, stalked across the floor and grabbed the front of Richards' shirt, hauling him unceremoniously to his feet by it.

“Outside,” he snapped. “Or we have this discussion in front of everyone.”

Briefly, Reed considered Ben’s earlier offer, and pushed Victor’s hands away.

“You know what? _Fine_. Outside, inside… I don’t care, Victor.”

The knowing smirk he got in return was exceptionally punchable.

“But you _do_ care, Reed. You care _tremendously_. And _because _you care, you will meet me outside.”

People were staring. He could feel it; his stomach twisting in knots at the unwanted attention, his face probably several shades of red. For a few shameful seconds Reed wanted nothing more than to evaporate into the air and drift out the nearest window; join with the upper atmosphere and cease entirely to be. Instead, he downed the last of his water and trudged out to face… whatever humiliation awaited him.

He found Victor leaning against his car, arms folded and legs crossed.

“Your date,” he said simply. “Everyone thought I was your date–they believe _we _are a _couple_. Why?”

God, he was tired. Tired of lying, for one thing. Tired of trying to twist himself around this man’s corkscrew-like brain in countermeasure and get around the difficulties of him. Tired of trying to find some way to just… reach him, because you simply couldn’t talk to Victor von Doom like a normal human being.

“Because that’s what being someone’s plus-one at a college formal generally means, Victor. I didn’t ask you officially, I know that. And that was wrong. I just… I knew you’d say no, and I didn’t want you to.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Reed sighed and shook his head. It was a silly infatuation. He’d get over it.

“Hang on and I’ll get those reports–I’m sorry… about all of this, I’ll make sure everyone knows by tomorrow what the truth is, okay?”

He was so focused on unlocking the door, he didn’t realize that Victor had moved until a hand touched his shoulder; turning him around and pressing him back against the car door.

Reed’s confusion could not have been more complete, his heart racing until the pulse roared in his ears and the keys clattered to the asphalt.

“What **is** the truth, Reed?”

He was standing much too close. Near enough that their bodies fit neatly together, pressure applied to all of the points he had only just decided not to think further about, their eyes perfectly level–Victor had an inch on him, possibly, and he felt heavier; more muscular, but that was hardly as intimidating as he clearly thought it should be.

What it was, primarily, was a massive turn-on. 

Everything about Victor was like some terrible, dangerously addictive high that every rational part of Reed's mind knew should be avoided while the rest of his body whined stubbornly for just a _taste _of it.

That was the truth, and it scared the hell out of him.

“I think you’re fascinating and brilliant,” he murmured, unsure of where to put his hands exactly. Letting them rest on Victor’s hips seemed safest, but the need to touch was nearly overwhelming. “I’m attracted to you; I suspect you knew that already but I’ve yet to determine if it’s mutual.”

By way of an answer, Victor leaned in closer, one hand resting against the edge of the car’s roof, the other cradling Reed’s head. His thumb curled in just below the jaw, lifting to increase the angle of tilt–and Reed lost track of everything from there except the fierce pressure of lips and teeth and the quick, teasing flicks of his tongue. He tried to keep up, but either Victor had gotten more chances to practice or Reed was just behind the curve in this area; he certainly felt outclassed.

Wrapping his arms around Victor until he could gain some degree of control in return, Reed grumbled under his breath and gave it his best effort anyway.  
By the time he pulled back, they were both panting. The contest was, in his opinion at least, a draw.

“I hate you,” Victor managed, after a pause. “I absolutely despise you and everything you stand for. I fully intend to cast your work so far into the shadows of my own that no one will remember you as anything more than 'a rather bright classmate of the immortal genius, Victor von Doom.’”

It was everything Reed could do not to roll his eyes. He’d heard this speech, or variations on it, more times than he could count. At this point the only part he truly heard at all was “bright.” In a decidedly warped kind of way, Victor was paying him a compliment.

“So you kissed me because you hate me. That seems logical.”

The scowl of irritation, up close, wasn’t nearly so threatening. Up close, you could see the flicker of confusion that preceded it.

“I kissed you because I find you attractive.”

Reed did not know what any part of his circulatory system was doing in response to that simple sentence, but it was doing it with wicked enthusiasm.

“And yet–you hate me.”

“I do.” Victor sounded a little breathless, still–his hand kneading the tense muscles at the back of Reed’s neck.

“So, naturally, you don’t want the school to think of us as a couple…”

“Mm.” He really did seem distracted. It didn’t take a genius of any sort to work out why; not at this proximity, at least.

“…But sex, I assume, would be perfectly acceptable to you?”

As if he’d only just realized what he was proposing, Victor glanced aside and paused, his fingers still against Reed’s skin.

“That was... not what I meant to imply…” His embarrassment was so obvious, Reed almost pitied him.

Almost.

“Well, that’s good. See, I wouldn’t want to lower my opinion of you by believing you’d proposition me for something that vulgar. You’re a lot of things, Victor, but sleazy isn’t one of them. And neither am I.”

Pale brown eyes looked into his, confusion filling them.

“Of course not,” he offered hesitantly. It was the first time Reed could recall seeing Victor in anything less than perfect control. He looked very much as he did on the rare occasions when he lost one of their chess matches; unsure of how it had happened, of where exactly everything had gone wrong.

“Given that, I guess the options are: one, we walk away from this and never speak of it again, pretend nothing happened and by tomorrow… the school will think the absolute worst of me because I’ll tell everyone it was all part of a prank that backfired, or… option number two…" A pause to gather his nerve. "We... decide where to go on our _second _date.”

The look of confusion shifted to one of pained contemplation and Reed practically held his breath until Victor let go completely, stepping back and retrieving the dropped car keys.

A long silence grew longer still, and Reed considered that the best thing to do now might be to simply get in the car and drive away.

“The cinema, I believe, is a traditional choice.”

Reed heard a distant jangle as he dropped the keys again.

“That... would be perfect.” 


End file.
